


To Frustrate

by orphan_account



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Age Difference, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Phase One (Gorillaz), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Valentine's Day, aromantic character implied, implied praise kink, power bottom 2D
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 15:59:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13721100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Feeling sexually frustrated? Haha, don't worry, 2-D gotchu.





	To Frustrate

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, okay, my first ever smut writing and I'm not sure if I should be proud or disgusted.
> 
> This is what disappointing your family and ancestors looks like.
> 
> And, smh, I know this is late but I still wanted to get it out.

Valentine's was met with a cool, cloud troubled daylight. It hit like a fine cake being dropped; the delicious, baked dessert of wholesomeness discarded with little reluctance - meaning indulgence didn't have a place in the schedule. 

The year was 2001 and the day of love had fallen on a Wednesday - some called it rather unfortunate. And though he was sure he wouldn't catch a break, Murdoc Niccals still hoped for a relief of sorts - to put it lightly, he felt he deserved a night of Tomfoolery. After all, a band doesn't happen over night and the very same could be said about music production; an album doesn't write itself! 

It went without a doubt that this band was his top priority. He'd consulted with the singer - Stuart "2-D" Pot - often and that had to count for something; the man - correction: "Boy" - he could barely stand. It was a miracle 2-D and him could chum around long enough to doctor the earliest drafts of what their debut album would consist of. 

Not to mention that his nightly habits had been ceased at once; which included corner entertainers, one-night stands (The difference being that he enjoyed the personality his one-night stands' had, enough to bring them home) and just cruising through the area as his thoughts ran wild. So you can imagine he was feeling... pent up, unfulfilled, frustrated. And his hand wasn't a good substitute along with booze; alcohol could only do so much to ease the loneliness. 

It was near midday when Murdoc thought he might have had a problem; his body was alive with nerves, signals his body took as agitation - a ticking time bomb with emotional breakage just a snap away. His hands were itching to reach into his pants where his confused, engorging flesh was beginning to tent. There was some relief whereas company wise was given; the singer wasn't too bright and had no personal boundaries whatsoever. 

He had learned this quickly when the singer, too forward to harbor any kind of shame, wiped away the little guitarist's boogers - using his bloody fingers! Absolutely no hesitation in the action, just plain and simple; just reached over when the guitarist sniffled from a cold, dug for gold, and let his hand hover near her face. Two of his fingers had been practically dripping in snot!

And to what does the singer do then? You'd think he'd be mortified at what he did but, as stated earlier, he didn't give a damn about personal boundaries! He didn't have any - personal boundaries that is; coward he may be but he was the boldest man - "Boy" - he'd ever met. And people said he didn't have shame, never in a million years would he do something like that for another person. Anyway, the singer just glances at the guitarist with a passive expression, jerks his chin to his hand and redirects her attention. 

And the singer breaks into a shit eating grin. 

"Wanna taste it, luv?" 

He remembers he nearly vomited when Noodle nodded excitedly - it was like the whole situation was nothing new. Not even Russel had batted an eye! Surely this behavior had to be frequent from 2-D and, honestly, Murdoc wouldn't know because he didn't spend time with his band mates. He wasn't obliged to make friends with them but that didn't stop the whole lot of them from getting close anyway. 

That was their business, however, and not his. They were just their to make music and get Murdoc stupidly rich and famous. 

That covered, he, Murdoc, could be found outside his Winnebago, sexually frustrated and ready to jerk off despite the singer - who was an idiot, thank Satan. In the basement of Kong Studios, spending his Valentine's day trying to arrange a seating where the singer and he could possibly get some work done on his drafts. And you'd guess right if you said that progression was the absolute opposite of what they were doing. 

No, instead, the singer - the bloody idiot! Did he mention that the singer got on his nerves like no one's business? Moving forward, the singer insisted on his ramblings that were made to be small talk, perhaps even conversation starters, but - even if Murdoc wanted to converse with the bluenette, which was unlikely - he didn't understand the point of whatever the singer was trying to come across. 

Honestly, if the boy's dull personality, all-over-the place uniqueness, and all around quirky self were telltale signs of what his generation had to offer then let Murdoc say that-

That generation was going to ruin the economy and whatever they put their hands on. 

"Look, about t'e catchphrases-"

"W'ot are you on about!" Murdoc finally snapped, exasperated in every sense. He was too tired and bothered to put any bark behind his words so it sounded like he was genuinely asking - maybe he was? Murdoc would love to know what was wrong with the boy. 

"T'e catchphrases!" 2-D exclaimed, smile gripping his lips and capturing his face like a light bulb being switched on and Murdoc faltered; for all his shit talk, he wasn't going to deny the singer was pretty boy cute. He had his looks going for him, that was for sure. He idly wondered if the singer was happy just to have finally accumulated a response from his lackluster company. 

"I 'fink I should 'ave one! Some'fin to make m' even more recognizable!" 

"Like you aren't already?" Despite the circumstances, Murdoc had it in him to chuckle. It was laughable, it really, really was, to think that no one would remember someone as... eccentric as 2-D! There was no one like him, that was certain; the singer was brought by impossible happenings and it sure as hell wasn't going to happen to anyone else soon. 

"W'ot yew mean by 'hat?"

"Looked in'a mirror lately, mate? Not exactly some'fin that'd escape m' nightmares,"

"Well.." The singer began to respond, a pout resting on his lips now. 

"I don' 'fink 'hat's a very nice thing t' say, Murdoc," 

"Yea, whateva' 2-D. Learn t' handle a joke once in'a while, 'his is exactly why I don' hang out with you,"

"It is?" 2-D responded, looking positively bewildered and the slightest apologetic. Pretty pure of him. 

Murdoc only nodded, watching with raised brows, the slightest interest in his mismatched eyes, as the singer stewed with this newly offered bit of information. He could practically see the gears turning in the singer's head - he jokingly thought that he could see the smoke as well. 

And to his surprise, 2-D burst out in laughter - startled him out of his skin, he jumped forward with his eyes dilating to pin pricks as his heart thundered in his ears. He had to grip the fabric of where his heart was only a few inches away, practically bursting with the not intentional scare. 

"Nice one, Murdoc! Real knee-slapper!" 

"You right git! Bloody weird fuck, I nearly pissed m'self!" 

"But yew said-"

"Forget w'ot I said, just stop bein' you fer a minute," 

"I just want yew t' like m' though. Any'fin wrong wif' 'hat? Makin' new friends? Meetin' new people? Try it some time, Murdoc, maybe 'hen yew won't be such a tosser, eh?"

Murdoc bristled at the insult, flabbergasted at the singer's turn of attitude and unarmed due to 2-D's usual chipper self being replaced. 

"You fackin' bitch," He finally said.

"Piss off, yew gannet," 

"You chuffer!"

"Yeah, well, yer like a dog wif' two dicks!" 

"I get more ass then you at least!"

"Yew dirty ol' man!" 

Murdoc threw up his hands, his patience stretched thin and all around at the end of his rope. 

"Just shut it! I can't handle talkin' t' you fer short periods of time," 

Murdoc rubbed his temples tiredly and nursed an oncoming headache. He eyed the singer after a time and bared his teeth at him - which was retaliated with as much as passion that rivaled his own. The singer possibly outshining him - who'd've thought that black eyes made you appear more fearsome then you actually were? Surely made Murdoc hesitate for a good millisecond. 

After trying to assert dominance, Murdoc found himself way too heated to continue and, very, very reluctantly let his body sag against his Winnebago, taking his eyes away from the singer - whom had the nerve to look proud as a peacock. He rustled in his pocket and pulled out a smoke but quickly found he had no lighter. 

A good chunk of time passed in stubborn before Murdoc came to the terms that he didn't have a lighter on him, nor did he remember where he left it, and opted, as a last resort, to ask the singer for one. 

" 'ave a light I can borrow?" He asked quietly, trying to show that he wasn't angry any longer. It didn't work at first but he had a feeling that... the singer would break soon; just something his mind told him - told him to wait because the singer would give him one. Eventually. And true to his thoughts, the singer's tense, angry looking shoulders sagged in defeat and 2-D could stand to look at him with a softer gaze. It wasn't so much upholding as it was before, rather weary, so it came off as apathetic. 

"Yea, sure," And 2-D gave him his own. 

" 'Fanks." Murdoc offered, fag balanced between his lips and it made his accent sink deeper into his words. 

"No problem," 

And that was how they usually made up. In a nonchalance that made the drummer roll his eyes and angrily glare at the two for a time. Perhaps because their grudges usually lasted so long against each other that a.. dramatic and more out-there approach to forgiveness should be given. 

But one party was an idiot and the other didn't particularly care. 

By the end of his cigarette, he was much aware of the bulge in his trousers. He couldn't - and wouldn't - do much about it other than be annoyed and sexually frustrated. He could probably do with telling 2-D to leave and just take care of it sooner rather than later but... masterbating got real sad after a while; not having a bird next to him, warm body pressed against his, was something he began to miss. Not something he thought about but he surely missed intimacy with another person and not just his hand for company. 

And that was where his other problem came in, a minor one, but when he thought about actually going out to get a desired shag his brain just told him that he had an album to write and it'd be a waste of time. Definitely a first to be this motivated and dedicated as to resist pleasures. 

"Damn it all t' hell..." He cursed moodily. No longer caring what he said to the singer - he was an idiot anyway. 

"Fuckin' cold as fuck basement, stupid holiday, stupid album, stupid band, yer fuckin' dumb two-dee, fuckin' stupid boner, damn it all t' hell!" 

"Well, shite, fack yew too, Murdoc-"

"Shut t'e fuck up."

Moments passed in silence, both men sitting side-to-side, aggravated at each other and pointedly tried to ignore the other's existence. Murdoc wondered why the singer was still there because, from the glance he chanced a few minutes into this game of cold shoulder, the singer was pissed. The bluenette was seething down to his bones; it puzzled Murdoc because 2-D didn't get this flared up when faced with insults. And 2-D only got hurt when Murdoc insulted him most times so to so obviously look like he wanted nothing more than Murdoc to drop dead was definitely a first. Kind of interesting too. 

Nonetheless, he more or less disregarded the singer and their cold attitude lasted a good half hour before anything really happened. And by that time, Murdoc's eyes were glazed in thought and he had forgotten their little argument; too lost in his thoughts to actually reclaim most of reality right away. 

And, unfortunately, 2-D became aware of his little problem during that time - by chance! Wanting to get his light back, for his own use, he glowered at Murdoc with his mouth open to demand his light but he stopped dead and took an interest into Murdoc's pubic area. Not at all disgusted or surprised, rather just curious with naivety and simply blinked at the tented trousers with a brow quirked. 

Most would think to blush, look away in modesty, or even just back away from the other person but 2-D wasn't like most people; he really didn't have any personal boundaries, he wasn't easily flustered - easily scared, yes - but when it came to human things, he just wasn't raised to be embarrassed by these sort of things. 

He grew up with friends whom he could kiss goodnight and it was accepted with open arms - so long as he had socks on. 

"Painful, huh?" 2-D said, which was the only thing he spoke regarding what was to come, his voice empathetic. 

The singer, with a look of blithe, reached over and, without shame, fingered the hardened flesh. It drove Murdoc out of his thoughts at once, a choked sound of distress leaving his throat. 

"W'ot in'a-" Murdoc slapped the singer's hand away, more out of shock than any real intent to hurt. 

"W'ot?" 2-D questioned, a blinking expression on his face. His hand not at all discouraged and he tried again. Murdoc gripped his forearm to a halt, his hand tightening against the limb like a vice; a wild look in his eye's.

"Why t'e fuck are you like 'his??"

" 'm just tryin'a help!"

" 'hat's fuckin' gay, two-dee!"

"I 'fink people would agree it wasn't gay enough,"

"W'ot?"

"We're both men, Murdoc. S'not like 'his don' happen t' m'! Fer fack's sake! Just lemme help yew, 'here is no shame, really Murdoc,"

Without any words of consent, catching Murdoc off his pole, 2-D went further and plunged his icy cold hand into the Bassists' trousers and wrapped his hand around the heated, hardened flesh. 

"Oh fuck!" Murdoc gasped, muscles tightening painfully at the sudden contact with the cold. 

"Christ, yer cold!"

"Don' be such a pussy, Murdoc," 

The singer pumped his hand experimentally, catching low growls of turmoil bliss. 

" 'hat's it," The singer said, mockingly encouraging. "Just a lil' more, Muds, 'his is supposed t' be fun!" 

You'd think they were bonding! What a cheeky little shit that singer. 

"St-stu, two-dee?" Murdoc babbled, hands tightening in his hair, his own hair mind, not knowing what to do with them or himself or of what to make of this situation; his brain was completely overwhelmed with the almost-forgotten sensations and suddenness. He tried to put his thoughts into words but he could only question the singer as to why? Why was the singer like this. 

" 'ave you... no shame!" He finally ground out with a sharp growl. 

"Listen," The singer ceased his movements for a fraction of time and met Murdoc's attempted glare with open eyes. 

" 'm an idiot, remember?" He asked sardonically, his face finally showing a hint of annoyance rather than indifference. 

"Don' 'fink about it too much," 

And not another moment after did the singer begin, once again, pumping Murdoc's dick without so much as a peep at John Thomas. 

The singer was impressed by Murdoc's personal treasures and cocked his head slightly in the acknowledge of it. 

"Would it make yew less uncomfortable if I wanked off too?" The singer inquired innocently enough; not missing the way Murdoc's eyes darkened in arousal. 

"Easier t' face things together, right?"

"You cheeky lil' shit!" Murdoc retorted, suddenly aware how much of a fool 2-D was making him. 

"Yew can't go back, Murdoc," 2-D warned with a smirk. "We've already gone down 'his path and-

"Aren't yew t'e least bit curious as t' w'ot'll happen?"

"Just fuckin' jerk m' off you slag." 

"Fair enough... although." 

"W'ot are you doin' ?" Murdoc questioned at once, finding his voice nearly lost as the singer made quick work to get in between Murdoc's legs. Fast movements for someone who was usually a clumsy mess. 

The singer rested the side of his face on Murdoc's length, coyly not meeting his gaze and answered sweetly:

"I dunno. 'm an idiot. Remember?" 

"Prat,"

"Muppet,"

2-D was hasty to get any fabric away from the engorged flesh, pulling down Murdoc's wearing despite the older man's sounds of shock - the singer thought that Murdoc shouldn't be surprised, it was long overrun at this point. Murdoc's member sprang free of its' restraints, fully hard; thick and the tip blushing. 

The singer's face was placed right over Murdoc's cock, he nuzzled the erection and looked at Murdoc. 

"Yew can stop m' at anytime, yew an' I both know 'hat..." The singer broke out into a grin. 

"Yer enjoyin' 'his aren't yew? S'all right, 'm irresistible! So gorgeous, eh?"

"You 'ave a praise kink, I take it?"

"Perhaps." 

"I'll think about it."

2-D didn't ask for more than that and nodded in response, licked his lips suggestively - what a fuck-boy of him - and licked a hot, wet stripe on the underside of Murdoc's cock. He gave a dramatic kiss to the top and suckled gently. 

"Holy shit, you've done 'his before," 

The singer pulled away with a frown. "No, I 'aven't,"

"Bullshit!"

"Feisty girls 'fink it's hot when I suck m' own dick - I'll be damned if I let 'em come close to m' arse wif' a strap on. 'his is usually a compromise,"

" 'hat counts, you nutter,"

"Well, shit,"

The singer, at last, wrapped his mouth around the head and hummed a small tune in teasing; pulling strangled cries from the Bassist. Confidence boasted, the singer firmly sucked before bobbing his head up and down the member - getting drunk off the pretty sounds Murdoc gave him and finally felt his own jeans tightening. 

"Brilliant," Murdoc said breathlessly, concluding to humor 2-D in his kink. 

"Such a pretty lil' cock sucker, luv it don't you? You slut,"

The singer, again, pulled off Murdoc's cock; this time mirth was in his black eyes. 

"Yer not very good at dirty talk, Murdoc - don' worry! I'll fix 'hat!"

The Bassist couldn't argue with that, he really wasn't big on talking during sex. It was a job itself to get himself to toughen up and fuck the brain's out of a minger.

Filthy encouragement hung on Murdoc's tongue as he was left speechless, the singer relaxing and taking all of Murdoc in his throat - and just fucking held him there, the tip at the back of his throat. 

"Fuck..." Murdoc hissed. "L-lips stretched so fuckin' prettily - an' it's all fer me. Tell me it's all fer me."

The singer rolled his eyes playfully and grumbled inaudibly, his tone in agreement. 

"Close enough." Murdoc deadpanned.

"Christ, yer so... damn gorgeous!"

The singer preened at the words, eyes fluttering dreamily, and rightfully looking like he was having a pleasant time. Not at all bothered by how Murdoc said it - like it was something he just realized, sounding bewildered beyond reason. 

Experimentally, Murdoc thrusted into the boy's tight heat of his throat. The singer pulled back in alarm, gagging into a small coughing fit.

"Fuckin' hell! Yew crazy bastard, just leave m' t' yer devices unsupervised!"

Murdoc grunted, chest heaving and heavily flushed. 

"Sorry, sorry." He demurs tiredly. "Just gettin' close is all,"

2-D sniffs in response. " 'hen... I suppose I can handle it if it's only a few minutes." 

Murdoc doesn't need anything else than that to take advantage of the singer, he grabs his hair and pulls 2-D's mouth closer to his crotch; the singer opens his mouth wide and takes the man again. With that, Murdoc pistons his thrusts in a fast pace, grunting with every snap of his hips and his teeth bared as animalistic groans leave into the open air. 

"G-gonna.." Murdoc manages to moan out before his body seizes and he comes silently, his hands finding the singer's shoulders and he digs his fingers into the fabric until it threatens to rip. 

Try as he may, the singer couldn't swallow as quickly as he would have liked and he put up a fight as he retreated back; the white semen finding his shirt without much protecting. 

"Fuck!" The singer exclaims. "My washer's gonna get pregnant!"

" 'hat's not 'ow 'hat works, two-dee,"


End file.
